


Penny Dreadful

by flashofthefuse



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, MFMM Year of Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-01 20:36:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12712497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashofthefuse/pseuds/flashofthefuse
Summary: "Up until now Phryne had been able to separate Jake and Fannie from herself and Jack. They were simply characters from the head of an overly romantic young woman. But as she’d read that last scene those characters had taken on the forms of the real Phryne Fisher and the real Jack Robinson."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was influenced by other fics I've recently read here on AO3 and I want to acknowledge them and thank the authors for inspiring me. 
> 
> There are several stories before this one that have used the idea of fan fiction within fan fiction. The first one I read was Sarahtoo's **_Life Imitates Art_ **. Others include **_Collingwood Noir_ ** by longlineofTVdetectives and **_Stranger than Fiction_** by Whopooh. 
> 
> I had an idea for one that fit into this month's trope challenge and decided to try my hand at it.
> 
> Additional inspiration came from **_Out of Their Depth_ ** by Inzannatea which cleverly explored the genre of Fan fiction. I attempted a bit of that in this story as well. I won't go into too much detail, other than to say that some of the things I have the author and reader in my story doing and experiencing are all things I have experienced while reading and writing fan fic.
> 
> And, finally, one last big thank you to Sarahtoo for reading this through for me!

Phryne headed to the kitchen in search of help. She’d discovered a tear in one of her stockings and hoped Dot could make a repair before it got any larger. The room was empty but there was a warm teapot on the table along with a plate of biscuits. A half full cup of tea and a lengthy letter sat in front of Dot’s preferred chair. Assuming her companion had only stepped away for a moment, Phryne decided to await her return.

She poured herself a cuppa and took a few biscuits from the plate. Her eyes fell on the pages in plain view on the tabletop.

 

> **_“Miss Disher,” Detective Inspector Jake Robertson said, tipping his hat to her as he approached, “what brings you to this part of town?”_ **
> 
> **_“I had business with my banker,” Fannie replied, managing a small, rather unnatural smile. “I thought I’d stop at one of my favorite bakeries around the corner before returning home.”_**  

“Oh! Miss Fisher!” Dot cried. “I didn’t know you were in here!”

“I was looking for you,” Phryne replied, holding up the torn stocking. “Do you think you might save these?”

“Let me have a look.”

As Dot perused the damaged silk, Phryne picked up one of the pages from the table.

“What is this Dot?” She asked. Dot looked up. An expression of alarm crossed her face when she saw what Phryne held.

“It’s...It’s nothing, Miss. Just a letter,” she stammered. She held out her hand and Phryne returned the page to her.

“I doesn’t look like a letter,” Phryne said, skeptically.

“Well, not so much a letter,” Dot said, a furious blush creeping over her apple cheeks. “It’s more a story.”

“I see.” Phryne noticed Dot couldn’t manage to look at her. “Is this story about anyone we know?”

“What?” Dot said, her voice pitching unnaturally high. “Why would you ask that?”

“I happened to read a few lines. I didn’t mean to pry but it was right there. There’s a character called Fannie Disher. And another by the name of Jake Robertson. Detective Inspector Jake Robertson,” Phryne said, with an arch of her eyebrow.

“Oh, dear,” Dot collapsed into her chair. “Yes. I suppose you could say it’s about people we know. But it’s a fictionalized version of them. It’s not real.”

“Did you write it?”

“No!” Dot exclaimed vehemently. “You remember my friend Alice, don’t you?”

“Cec’s Alice? Of course I do,” Phryne said.

“Well, Alice likes to write stories. She often shares them with me.”

“And I make an appearance in this one?”

“You and the Inspector, yes.” Dot blushed darkly.

“Why?”

“Well, Alice has always admired you,” Dot said. “More than admired, really. She’s fascinated by you. The life you’ve led and your work as a lady detective. She’s always asking me about our cases with the Inspector.”

“Are you in this story too?”

“A little,” Dot smiled. “And Hugh, too. Even Cec and Burt make an appearance. All with names changed, of course.”

“Of course. Is it any good?” Phryne asked, her interest piqued.

“I think it’s wonderful! I’ve already read it through twice!”

“What is it about?”

“Oh! I’m not really sure how to describe it. You and Inspector Robinson—or rather, Fannie and Jake—solve a murder. And, well...some other things happen...some...more personal things,” Dot trailed off uncertainly.

“Sounds intriguing. Would you let me read it?” Phryne asked. From the description it didn’t sound like much at all but she was dying to know what had Dot’s face turning as red as a fireplug.

“You want to read it?”

Phryne hadn’t thought it possible, but Dot reddened further. She was nearly purple now.

“I would,” Phryne replied. “If you don’t think Alice would mind.”

“Well, I don’t know that she ever intended you to see it—but I haven’t been expressly asked to keep if from you,” Dot hedged.

“Wonderful,” Phryne said, holding out her hand. Dot hesitated to hand the pages over.

“You will keep in mind that it’s not meant to really be you and Inspector Robinson, won’t you?”

“I will keep that in mind.”

“And you won’t tell anyone else about it?”

“If you wish,” Phryne agreed, she was so curious now she’d have agreed to anything to get her hands on the pages.

Finally Dot smiled and handed them over. “I hope you like it. I helped with some of it and I think it’s very good. It’s tragically romantic,” she sighed dramatically.

“Hmm, yes,” Phryne said, distractedly. A tragically romantic story featuring herself and Jack? She’d probably find it comical. She looked up to see Dot watching her expectantly.

“I’ll get my sewing kit and you can read it while I mend,” Dot said. “I can’t wait to hear what you think of it.”

Phryne balked. She didn’t want to read it in front of Dot. What if it was horrible or she found it so funny she laughed inappropriately? Besides, she had other plans.

“Ah, well, I can’t read it right now,” she said, apologetically, “I’m heading over to City South this morning.”

“Is there a new investigation?”

“Not new, no. More an ongoing one.”

An ongoing investigation into why she and Jack couldn’t get off the ground. He’d rushed off too quickly from their celebration the other night. After they’d solved the case at the RAAF. _‘Reports to finish’_ , he’d claimed.

She hadn’t seen him since and she wanted to make sure he wasn’t still brooding over her liaison with Group Captain Compton.

Honestly, she didn’t understand why he’d been so bothered. It was nothing. Just two old friends. Reminiscing.

“I’ll have time to read it later tonight,” she told Dot, “may I hang onto it until then?”

“Of course,” Dot said graciously. “We can talk in the morning.”

* * *

 

Phryne’s visit with Jack had been mostly gratifying. He didn’t seem to be harboring any lingering resentments but she hadn’t been able to pin him down on a new date for their previously aborted intimate dinner. He’d been unavailable this evening, which was just as well. Her invitation had been impulsive and had he accepted she’d have had to scramble to get Dot out of the house. Plus, it would have been a lot to ask of Mr. Butler on such short notice.

Jack hadn’t said what _he_ was doing, but _she’d_ ended up spending a quiet and uneventful night in. Dot had hinted at the story a few times, wondering if she’d had time to read it, but she’d put it off until her household had retired for the evening.

Once the house was quiet, she washed the day off and put on her favorite silk dressing gown—the one with the fighting cocks embroidered on the back. She stoked the fire in the parlour grate, poured herself a generous whisky and settled into a comfortable chair. Finally, she picked up the pages and began to read. 

 

> **_The Honourable Miss Fannie Disher rounded the corner at her usual jaunty clip, the heels of her kidskin shoes clicking along the sidewalk. She was impeccably dressed and her raven hair gleamed. Her lovely cheeks were brightened by the crisp, clean air and her lips were painted her signature red. As always, heads turned as she passed._  **

“Not bad, so far”, Phryne muttered, taking a sip of her whisky.

 

> _**Ahead of her, standing outside a small bookshop, she spied a familiar figure and her heart leapt in her chest. She increased her pace, hurrying toward him and was just about to call out when the shop door opened and a young woman exited. The man straightened, almost springing to attention at the woman’s appearance and returned the smile she beamed his way.** _
> 
> _**As the woman turned to lock the shop door, he stepped forward, placing his hand on the small of her back. Even from a distance Fannie could see the woman lean back into his touch.** _
> 
> _**Fannie’s stomach lurched and dropped. Her knees went weak and she felt momentarily unsteady on her feet. Unsteady enough that she couldn’t move despite an urge to flee.** _

 Phryne snorted softly. She could see where this was going. It appeared to be heading into a love triangle that was most unlikely in real life, and this version of herself, this Fannie, already seemed far too melodramatic.

 

> _**Fannie stood rooted to the sidewalk. He turned in her direction. She saw a flash of surprise cross his face but it was fleeting. He nodded in acknowledgement and headed her way. His lady friend was at his side, her hand linked through his arm at the elbow and gripping his bicep. Fannie knew just what she would be feeling. Firm muscle and taut tendon. The pulse of his blood rushing through his veins.** _
> 
> _**The woman had her face turned toward his and was chatting away happily but Fannie noticed that he didn’t seem to be paying attention. He was looking straight ahead, his expression enigmatic.** _
> 
> _**“Miss Disher,” Detective Inspector Jake Robertson said, tipping his hat in greeting as he approached. “What brings you to this part of town?”** _
> 
> _**“I had business with my banker,” Fannie replied, managing a small, rather unnatural smile, “and thought I’d stop at one of my favorite bakeries around the corner before heading home.”** _
> 
> _**“Oh! I know just the one. It’s two doors down from my shop,” the woman at his side exclaimed, drawing his attention.** _
> 
> _**“Forgive my manners! Miss Disher, may I introduce Miss Calista Winsome?” Jake said.** _
> 
> _**“It’s a thrill to meet you, Miss Disher!” Miss Winsome effused. On closer examination her youth was glaringly obvious. The girl couldn’t possibly be any older than Fannie’s own companion, Pat!** _
> 
> _**“Call me Fannie, please,” she said, extending her hand, turning her dazzling smile on the girl and taking the opportunity to look her over critically.** _
> 
> _**Calista’s skin was smooth and free of any blemish. It reminded Fannie of magnolia blossoms in spring. Her hair was a rich, deep chestnut brown with waves that tumbled out from under her stylish cloche. Clearly expensive, the hat was a gorgeous shade of violet that exactly matched Calista’s large, expressive eyes.** _
> 
> _**In short, she was stunning.** _
> 
> _**“May I really call you Fannie?” Calista gushed, “then you must call me Callie! All my friends do and I hope you and I will be good friends. Jake has told me so much about you! I can’t tell you how much I admire you!”** _
> 
> _**“My goodness!” Fannie laughed, “I worry he has exaggerated my charms!”** _
> 
> _**“I assure you, I have not,” Jake stated, his eyes locking on hers in a way that made her knees go weak once more.** _
> 
> _**“Oh, no!” Callie cried, blinking her wide eyes, the lashes of which were almost too long and thick to be believed. “Jake never exaggerates! He always tells the truth.”** _
> 
> _**“I’m sure he does,” Fannie agreed, her eyes drawn to the man in question. She tore them away and returned her attention to the girl, “have you and the inspector been acquainted long? I feel at a disadvantage. Jake is such a careful and private man, I confess he has told me little about you.”** _
> 
> _**“Jake, darling! You haven’t told her our good news? He is sometimes too careful, isn’t he?” Callie said, smiling at Fannie as though this were a secret they shared.** _
> 
> _**“What is the good news?” Fannie inquired.** _
> 
> _**“Ah, yes, that,” Jake said, clearing his throat and looking highly uncomfortable. He took a deep breath. “Miss Winsome and I are engaged to be married.”** _
> 
> _**For the third time in as many minutes Fannie felt herself wobble and the ground drop away. How she remained upright she’d never know.** _
> 
> _**“Married?” She blinked.** _
> 
> _**How was this possible? Jake was only recently divorced. In addition, he spent so much of his free time in Fannie’s parlour she couldn’t imagine when he'd had time to meet this woman, much less court and propose to her!** _
> 
> _**“I can understand your surprise,” Callie said, enthusiastically,“it’s been a bit of whirlwind. I hardly believe it myself!”** _
> 
> _**“Yes. It all happened rather quickly,” Jake confirmed, looking uncomfortable still. He reached up to straighten his tie in that fidgety way he did when flustered. It pained Fannie to realize how familiar the motion was to her.** _
> 
> _**“Oh, dear!” Callie cried. “I’ve forgotten to turn the sign on the door. You do distract me!” She scolded, giving Jake a playful swat. “I’ll be back in a moment!” She pulled her keys from her bag and turned back to the shop.** _
> 
> _**“She’s lovely, Jake,” Fannie said, plastering a false smile on her face that she hoped he wouldn’t see through, “I wish you nothing but happiness.”** _
> 
> _**“Miss Disher, I—” Jake began, then stopped suddenly, clearing his throat, “Callie is lovely,” he agreed, “thank you for your good wishes. I believe we will be happy.” His small smile appeared a bit rueful to Fannie, for a man proclaiming his future happiness.** _
> 
> _**Before she had a chance to remark on it, Calista returned to his side, smiling up at him with a look of such adoration it robbed Fannie of breath.** _
> 
> _**“Will the wedding be soon?” She managed to croak out, her voice an octave higher than was usual.** _
> 
> _**“As soon as we can manage,” Calista enthused. “I don’t want anything fancy and of course it is Jake’s second marriage, so it might be considered bad form to cause too much fuss. I’d be happy with the courthouse but mother wants a little ceremony with family and a few friends at the church. I do hope you’ll come! Please say you will. I know it would mean the world to Jake to have you there! He thinks so highly of you, don’t you darling?”** _
> 
> _**“Yes,” Jake said, “Yes. I do.”** _
> 
> _**“See! You must come!”** _
> 
> _**“I’ll try my best,” Fannie promised.** _
> 
> _**“Wonderful! It’s all settled then!” Calista cried happily. “I’m so glad we ran into you or Jake might never have gotten round to inviting you! Isn’t it fortunate, darling?”** _
> 
> _**“Yes. Quite fortunate,” Jake said, his hand going around Calista’s waist, “but now we must be on our way. I don’t wish to be rude, Miss Disher, but I’m afraid Miss Winsome and I have an appointment to keep.”** _
> 
> _**“Of course!” Fannie said, “I won’t delay you further!”** _
> 
> _**“It was so lovely to meet you, Fannie!” Calista beamed.** _
> 
> _**“You as well, dear.”** _
> 
> _**Fannie Disher smiled as the last remains of her heart shattered. It had cracked open upon first hearing the news and she was amazed she’d been able to hold it together well enough to wish him the best— which she truly, truly did. She wanted Jake to be happy.** _
> 
> _**But go to the wedding? Stand up and watch the man she loved with all her heart marry another? She didn’t think she could bear that.** _
> 
> _**She felt utterly defeated. No longer taking any pleasure in the beauty of the day and feeling so low she thought the earth might open up and swallow her whole. She almost wished that it would. She didn’t see Jake turn back to look at her or the expression of pain and loss that crossed his face.** _  

Phryne let the pages fall to her lap, laughing softly. It was a ridiculous story thus far, and slightly overwrought. Clearly the work of a highly romantic young woman. It could use some editing and perhaps grammatical assistance—the sentences often ran on or were fragmented. And it read a bit like Alice had sat with a thesaurus at her side to come up with alternatives for the word ‘said’.

Then there was this Calista Winsome character. Could the name be any more on the nose? Calista, meaning “she that is most beautiful,” combined with a word that by definition meant attractive or appealing in appearance. Alice was really beating that horse!

Phryne also thought that Calista bore more than passing resemblance to the author— although she remembered Alice’s eyes to be brown—but perhaps that discrepancy had been an attempt to mislead. Had Alice created a thinly veiled version of herself to play the usurping love interest? Might she perhaps fancy Inspector Robinson just a bit?

Phryne couldn’t fault her for that. The girl clearly had excellent taste in men but she chuckled to think how Cec might feel about it!

She had to admit the story was holding her attention and even contained moments that stirred her emotions. She had to give Alice credit.

Though it was late, she decided to plod on. After all, she’d promised Dot she’d return the pages in the morning. She poured another finger of whisky and continued. 

 

> _**Fannie Disher hadn’t slept a wink. She couldn’t quiet her thoughts. She tossed and turned until her opulent satin sheets tangled around her limbs.** _
> 
> _**Finally, when it became clear sleep would continue to elude her, she rose from the bed, wrapped one of her gorgeous silk dressing gown around her body and went to her window to stare out into the black night.** _
> 
> _**It had only been recently that she’d recognized her growing attachment to Jake Robertson, though she’d been fond of him from the beginning and had always considered him an attractive man.** _
> 
> _**She suspected that his own feelings for her ran deep but she had always eschewed the kind of attachment that risked the heart. The kind of attachment that threatened her independence and freedom.** _
> 
> _**Yet somehow she’d found herself standing on the doorstep of just such an attachment!** _
> 
> _**How it had happened, she couldn’t say, it seemed to have come on slowly. Methodically. Much like the way she and Jake worked an investigation. With dogged persistence, chasing every clue until the solution was uncovered and the culprit revealed.** _
> 
> _**In this instance, the mystery was love and it had finally been revealed to her one afternoon, as she sat in a crowd, watching a footy match. He’d turned to her, speaking low and smiling. He’d draped his Abbotsford scarf around her neck, his large hands gripping it tightly and tugging slightly to draw her closer.** _  

Phryne gasped in astonishment. That moment. The one with the scarf. That was not a fiction. It had actually happened. She could still remember it clearly. The way Jack’s eyes had shone. His rare, full and open smile. The increase in her heart rate as he’d pulled her closer.

She felt a slight panic stir. How had such a personal moment from her life come to appear in a fictional story written by someone only tangentially connected to her? Alice hadn’t even been at that match!

But Cec had. As had Dot, Phryne realized. Either one of them could have witnessed the scene and shared it with Alice. And Dot had already admitted she’d assisted with the story.

Up until now Phryne had been able to separate Jake and Fannie from herself and Jack. They were simply characters from the head of an overly romantic young woman. But as she’d read that last scene those characters had taken on the forms of the real Phryne Fisher and the real Jack Robinson. In her mind’s eye she saw them sitting in that stadium as clear as day. With a growing curiosity—she wondered if this time things would end with a kiss— she turned back to the page. 

 

> _**...draped his Abbotsford scarf around her neck, his large hands gripping it tightly and tugging slightly to draw her closer. She’d gazed into his eyes—as blue as a stormy sea and fathoms deep. Her heart swelled in her chest and she knew, in that moment, that she wanted nothing more than to gaze into those eyes for an eternity.** _
> 
> _**It was wonderful, that feeling. Wonderful and exciting. Terrifying and new. She’d needed time to come to grips with it. She’d thought she had time. All the time in the world. Jake was the most steadfast and loyal man she’d ever known. And he loved her too. Of that she’d been sure. There was no reason to rush. Or so she’d thought.** _
> 
> _**How had she been so wrong? Why had she waited? She should have told him as soon as she’d realized how she felt about him. She could right now be in his arms and basking in the glory of his love. Instead she’d kept him in the dark as to her true feelings and he’d found someone else to hold. Someone young and lovely and clearly devoted to him. Someone unafraid to give him the love he deserved.** _
> 
> _**Tears streamed down Fannie’s face and she turned from the window, throwing herself face down into her pillow and sobbed herself to sleep.**_

“Oh for pity’s sake,” Phryne said aloud, fighting the urge to fling the papers from her hand. Despite a few personal details and a slight resemblance, Alice’s protagonist was very different from her real life inspiration. Desperately in love but afraid to show it? Sobbing over a broken heart? It was beyond ridiculous.

It was nothing at all like Phryne’s situation with Jack. She wasn’t keeping secrets from him or withholding love out of fear!

She and Jack had a deep connection. They’d simply found themselves at a sticking point in trying to further their relationship. “Too much ballast”, she’d said recently to describe it. And it was true. Disappointing, but true.

She wanted so much to take that next step with Jack but they kept bumping up against obstacles.

He had his objections to what he termed her ‘liberal minded’ ways. Her own desire to maintain her freedom and independence weighed heavily. Too much ballast to be sure. On both sides.

She took a large gulp of whisky from her glass. But, what had any of that to do with this story? Fannie and Jake weren’t real, she reminded herself, and they most certainly were not representative of her and Jack.

There were several more pages left to read. She didn’t have the patience. She skimmed quickly over the next part.

There was a murder. Hugh made an appearance by way of a constable named Hugo Bollins (Alice’s aliases were consistently unimaginative).

An Investigation ensued and here Phryne thought Fannie and Jake looked most like herself and Jack. Alice did a fair job of conveying how well they worked together as partners, their silent communication and unwavering support for each other. There was even some witty banter and flirting.

But then the story got bogged down as Alice tried to find her way out of the box she’d written herself into with her mystery. There was far too much exposition.

_Blah, Blah, Blah._

Phryne skipped ahead. 

 

> _**“You have to tell him, Miss Fannie!” Pat implored.** _
> 
> _**“I can’t, Pat.” Fannie smiled sadly. She’d finally confided her heartbreak to her young companion. “I would never come between Jake and what he wants.”** _
> 
> _**“But, what if he truly loves you?” Pat queried, “and he’s only marrying this other woman because he thinks you could never return his affections?”** _
> 
> _**“No, Pat. Even if that were true, I’d only make him unhappy in the end. He’d come to regret me. I can’t offer him what she can. I couldn’t be a proper companion to him. Not the way he’d want me to be.”** _
> 
> _**“But how do you know that? How do you know he wouldn’t rather have you? Just the way you are. My fiancé, Hugo, and I haven’t always seen eye to eye on how our marriage will look, but we work through it because we love each other and want to be together. We’ve learned to compromise,” Pat said. “The Inspector loves you. I know he does! I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Don’t you think he deserves to know how you feel? In order to make his own choice in the matter?”** _
> 
> _**“But he already has chosen!” Fannie argued.** _
> 
> _**“He doesn’t have all the facts,” Pat reasoned.** _
> 
> _**Her young companion was wise beyond her years and she meant well, but she was mistaken.** _
> 
> _**Jake did have all the facts. He knew how Fannie felt. She may not have ever used the words, but she’d shown him. It had all become too terribly clear in the back of his police motorcar at the conclusion of their latest case. She still remembered the feel of his arms around her as they’d joined together in the ultimate expression of love and devotion.**_

Phryne paused, blinking. Wait. What? How had she missed that? She flipped back through the pages she’d skimmed over until she found the passage she sought.

 

> _**The murderer was safely locked away and they were heading back into town when they were trapped by the sudden deluge. They were still miles from home and the roads fast becoming impassable. Jake pulled to the side to wait out the storm.** _
> 
> _**There was a flash of lightening and a loud clap of thunder. Fannie cried out and flew to his side in fear of the storm. His strong arms closed around her.** _
> 
> _**“It’s all right, darling Fannie. I’m here.”** _
> 
> _**“Oh, Jake,” Fannie cried.**_

“Oh, no”, Phryne said, as she read what came next. Alice was no D.H. Lawrence and it was evident that she and Cec had been slow in moving some parts of their relationship forward—although Alice seemed quite keen. After a few sentences Phryne decided her own imagination was superior. She skipped ahead again. 

 

> _**...ultimate expression of love and devotion.** _

She checked the clock. It was nearly midnight. Perhaps she should head up to bed. She drained what remained of the whisky, snuffed out the fire and turned out the lights. She decided to bring the pages with her. She didn’t want Mr. Butler coming across them in the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

Once upstairs Phryne tucked the pages into the drawer of the nightstand beside her bed and slipped between the sheets with a sigh. She closed her eyes. Her mind wandered to the interior of Jack’s police motorcar. A storm raged outside.

“Oh, yes!” Phryne cried out, her body stiffening. Her hips rose up off the mattress as the wave washed over her. She fell back against her pillow breathless. Her hands slipped from between her thighs and she smiled happily.

Her own imagination was definitely superior to Alice’s. Maybe the girl would appreciate a few notes. For one thing, perhaps Fannie and Jake might find a deserted cabin with only one, too small bed, in which to weather the storm? Motorcar backseats were notoriously cramped. And having to venture out in the rain would result in very wet clothing that required immediate removal. She’d make the suggestions to Dot in the morning. That, and maybe some tips on how to solve her mystery in a more concise and believable fashion.

She’d meant to go right to sleep but instead found herself retrieving the pages from the drawer. She propped her pillows against the headboard and pulled the doona up over her lap.

Now, where was she. Ah, here it was.

> _**...ultimate expression of love and devotion.** _
> 
> _**After, as they held each other tight, she couldn’t help but voice the thought that needled at her.** _
> 
> _**“This isn’t right,” she said.** _
> 
> _**His hand, which had been gently caressing her back, ceased its motion.** _
> 
> _**“Are you sorry?”** _
> 
> _**“No,” she answered honestly, “but I probably should be. It should never have happened.”** _
> 
> _**“It should have happened long ago,” he countered.** _
> 
> _**“You’re engaged to be married, Jake!” she said vehemently, sitting up and pulling away from him. “I don’t have dalliances with committed men!”** _
> 
> _**He exhaled as though he’d been punched in the gut.** _
> 
> _**“Dalliance,” he said, blankly. “Well, I’m sorry to have compromised your high standards, Miss Disher.” He sat up, pulling away from her and searching the floor of the car for his discarded clothing.** _
> 
> _**Stung, she sat back and watched him dress. His jaw was set. The muscles in his back stretched taut and angry. She suddenly felt vulnerable in her own nakedness. She found her undergarments and quietly covered herself. He handed her dress to her from off the floor of the car.** _
> 
> _**The silence hung menacingly in the air above them like the blade of a guillotine. She grasped his hand.** _
> 
> _**“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, gently. “You must know that I care for you!”** _
> 
> _**“Yes,” he said, his anger abating somewhat. His shoulders slumped. “That’s always been the problem Fannie, hasn’t it? You care for me.”** _
> 
> _**“You say that as though it’s something small and insignificant.”** _
> 
> _**“No. I know it isn’t,” he said, stroking her palm with his thumb and giving her a resigned smile. “It’s not small but it doesn’t really change anything does it?”** _
> 
> _**She wanted to reach for him. Draw him to her breast and tell him she was torn in two with love for him but she was afraid. This love felt so consuming. She feared she’d lose herself in it and what if, in the end, what she had to offer him was not enough? What if he gave up a chance for true happiness only to be disappointed in his choice? What if he left her? She was paralyzed by the fear.** _
> 
> _**He seemed to find his answer in her silence. He placed a fervent kiss to the back of her hand and released it.** _
> 
> _**“I won’t regret this, Fannie,” he said. “I hope you won’t either.”** _
> 
> _**“Never,” she said.** _
> 
> _**And that’s where they left it. On the road back into town their masks slipped back into place and by the time he dropped her at her door they’d locked the moment away like a keepsake to be brought out on occasion and looked on fondly.** _
> 
> _**She’d taken pains to stay away from him since.** _
> 
> _**The wedding was two days from now and she’d already sent her regrets. She planned to leave town. For however long it took her to forget him. She would travel. Find new adventures, new excitements.** _
> 
> _**But before she could leave she needed to see him one last time. She needed to say goodbye.** _
> 
> _**She would tell him, finally, that she loved him and that she knew he loved her but she understood why he was marrying another. They were too different. She could never give him what he needed. She would eventually rebel against the restraint of such a commitment and he’d be let down. They’d end up destroying their love and each other.** _
> 
> _**But she wanted—needed—one last moment with him. One last walk along the Esplanade to bask in their shared admiration and love. A love that was like no other. A love that burned too hot to endure.** _
> 
> _**And then she would leave him. She would let him go and wish him all the happiness in the world.** _

“Oh!” Phryne exclaimed. She was surprised to feel tears pricking at the back of her eyes. She was being silly and sentimental but Dot was right. This story was rather tragically romantic.

But Alice didn’t seem to be able to figure out who Fannie really was. Was she desperately in love and afraid, or was she simply too fiercely independent to commit to one man?

If she loved Jake, why didn’t she just say so? It made no sense. She finally gets him where she wants him and then the only thing she says is that it was a mistake? That she cares for him?

That is some weak tea. Phryne didn’t blame Jake for being hurt and a little angry.

But what of Jake? He had his own issues. And he certainly was no Jack! Engaged to one woman and sleeping with another? If marriage and commitment were truly that important to him then how could be so inconstant and faithless?

Phryne was surprised to find herself so invested in the couple. After that scene in the car she’d almost wanted to scream at them. To tell them to just talk to each other! Surely there was a middle ground to be found!

But they hadn’t talked. Instead they’d clammed up. Both of them still unsure of the other and not even trying to communicate. And now Fannie was just going to look the other way as the love of her life married another? She was just going to leave?

It was beyond frustrating.

Phryne held out hope that this meeting would be the push they finally needed to see that they belonged together. It couldn’t really end with Jake marrying another woman, could it? Not with the connection he and Fannie shared. 

> _**She breathed a sigh of relief to find him waiting for her. She hadn’t been at all sure he’d show up.** _
> 
> _**He faced away, gazing out over the sand and sea. It was late, the light of the day dying, but his silhouette was agonizingly familiar. She’d know it anywhere. The warm brown fedora and neatly trimmed hair. The long grey trench hanging from broad shoulders, his hands thrust deep into the pockets.** _
> 
> _**He must have heard her approach because he turned, the breeze blowing open his coat to reveal its worn red lining. He smiled and she thought it might stop her heart but she managed a smile in return.** _
> 
> _**“I’m glad you called. I was beginning to think you were avoiding me,” he said.** _
> 
> _**“Of course not,” she lied. “I’ve been terribly busy but I’m going away soon and didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”** _
> 
> _**“Going away? To where? For how long?”** _
> 
> _**“I can’t say. It seems I’ve been hit by wanderlust once again. I plan to travel at my pleasure and I don’t know when, or if, I’ll return.”** _
> 
> _**“I see,” he said, a bitterness creeping into his tone, “so you’ve no set agenda?”** _
> 
> _**“Not really.” She tried to sound breezy and cheerful.** _
> 
> _**“And yet you can’t stay long enough to attend the wedding?”** _
> 
> _**He’d always been able to see right through her.** _
> 
> _**“I’m not running away, Jake.”** _
> 
> _**“Aren’t you?”** _
> 
> _**His eyes locked on to hers and she knew it wouldn’t matter how vehemently she denied it, he would know the truth. Already knew the truth.** _
> 
> _**“Oh! Of course I am, Jake. Of course I’m running away. As far and as fast as I can! I can’t bear it!”** _
> 
> _**“Fannie,” he said, desperately. He reached for her and pulled her to him, his lips crashing down upon hers. She wound her arms around his neck and held on to him as if her very life depended on it.** _
> 
> _**They pulled apart, panting. He rested his forehead against hers.** _
> 
> _**“Jake,” she sighed, stroking her hand along his cheek. “My Jake.”** _
> 
> _**“Yes. I’m yours—if you’d only say the words.”** _
> 
> _**“You already know that I love you! I love you so desperately but it’s no good. Saying it aloud changes nothing.”** _
> 
> _**“Maybe it should!” He said, holding her firmly by the shoulders and staring intently into her eyes. “How can I marry her? How can I pledge myself to her when so much of my heart belongs to you?”** _
> 
> _**So much of his heart—but not all of it. His careful use of words wasn’t lost on her.** _
> 
> _**“You do love her as well, don’t you?” She asked, knowing the answer but half hoping he would deny it.** _
> 
> _**“Yes. She’s a good woman and I love her. I’d not have asked her to marry me if I didn’t, but I don’t love her the way I love you! God help me! I love you madly and one word is all it would take. One word, darling. Say you want me and I’m yours forever. Do you want me, Fannie?”** _
> 
> _**She wanted to cry out to him—’Yes! Yes I want you! I want you with every fiber of my being!’** _
> 
> _**But she didn’t.** _
> 
> _**She didn’t because she didn’t think she could be what he needed. He wanted a wife and a home, perhaps children. She’d never wanted that for herself and though she loved him, she wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready for that kind of commitment.** _
> 
> _**Still, her heart warred with her head. What if Pat was right. What if their love could be enough? If they had more time, was there a compromise to be found? She’d never been too good at compromise. Could she risk both his happiness and her own?** _
> 
> _**Her hesitation cost her. She watched his face as eager hope was replaced by pain and disappointment. She saw his features harden, felt his hands drop from her shoulders. A sorrowful defeat filled his eyes and she knew her chance had passed.** _
> 
> _**If you wait long enough, decisions have a way of being made for you.** _
> 
> _**“Will you walk with me, Jake?” she asked. “Like we used to. One last time?”** _
> 
> _**He nodded and offered her his arm. She fell in step at his side, holding tight to him and leaning into his shoulder. They spoke not a word. There was nothing left to say but goodbye and neither of them was ready for that just yet.** _
> 
> _**Finally, by mutual, unspoken agreement they turned back the way they’d come and when they reached the end of the path she released his arm and turned to him, holding his face in her hands. She took his full measure, burning his image into her mind firmly enough to last a lifetime. She kissed him gently on the lips and then she set him free.** _
> 
> _**He would lock her away now and go to the other one. He would be a good husband. A faithful man. The fortunate girl would never know there was another in his heart. Another who would fill a hidden space until his last breath.** _
> 
> _**A little bit of Fannie died as he walked away but she wouldn’t let this break her. She would hold onto the memories of her time with him and always look back on them fondly.** _
> 
> _**Two days later Fannie stood across the street from the little church. She had a hat pulled low over her eyes and stayed in the shadows. She watched them emerge from within, blinking in the sudden bright of day, followed by a small, joyous group of friends and family. Pat was there with her Hugo. She was blubbering into a handkerchief, Hugo’s consoling arm around her shoulders. The others in the crowd were smiling and laughing.** _
> 
> _**Jake grasped his wife’s hand and brought it to his lips as he smiled into her eyes.** _
> 
> _**Wife.** _
> 
> _**The word fell like a rock into Fannie’s gut.** _
> 
> _**Calista—Mrs. Robertson now, Fannie corrected herself— looked radiant and Jake looked happy. She hoped that he truly was and would always be so. She wanted nothing less for him.** _
> 
> _**She turned away and walked to the next block where her cabbie friends awaited her. They said nothing as she slipped into their taxi, but the dark, handsome one turned sad, kind eyes upon her. They left her at the docks, a silent and speedy embrace the only goodbye. Her trunks had been delivered earlier and the ship was in the final stages of boarding.** _
> 
> _**The Honorable Miss Fannie Disher mounted the gangplank. The smell of sea air triggered a surge of anticipation and excitement. She would go wherever life took her, with nothing holding her back or tying her down.** _
> 
> _**Life was an adventure and she intended to live it to the full.** _
> 
> _**THE END** _

 

Phryne set the pages aside and grabbed up a kerchief to dab at her eyes and blow her nose.

She hadn’t expected that ending. She’d been sure Fannie and Jake would end up together! But then, they’d both been annoyingly passive characters when it came to their romantic relationship. One or the other of them should have made a definitive move!

Jake kept waiting around for Fannie to outwardly declare her love rather than trusting what her actions were telling him.

And as for Fannie. Phryne could understand not wanting to lose one’s independence but had Jake ever indicated he’d take it from her? It seemed like she made up her mind on her own about what he needed and then took herself out of the equation a bit prematurely.

Maybe it was for the best that they’d parted ways and at least the story had ended on a hopeful note. It looked like they were each going to be content without the other.

Phryne had to admit it was a brave choice for the author to have made. The happy ending would have been the easier one.

She’d have to talk with her editor friend, Regina Charlesworth, about Alice. The young woman really should write serials. Her story was just the kind of romantic and angst filled fluff that made women’s magazines fly off the shelves.

There’d have to be a few changes. The characters couldn’t be so easily recognizable and that scene in the motorcar—best all around to turn that into a fade out! And, sadly, she’d probably have to change that ending or those eager readers would eat her alive.

Phryne stowed the pages back in the drawer, turned out her lights and laid her head on her pillow. She couldn’t help but draw parallels between the story and her own relationship with the real Inspector Robinson. Some of the things Alice had touched on hit a little too close for comfort. She wondered how much of it had come from Dot. She’d never hidden her attraction to Jack from anyone but perhaps she had honed her companion’s observational skills more sharply than was entirely wise.

She closed her eyes and drifted into sleep. She dreamt of Jack. His face, his hands.

His arms were around her. His kiss warm and soft on her lips...on her neck...her breasts. She woke with a start, feeling unsettled and overly warm. She threw the covers off and stared up at the ceiling waiting for her heart rate to resume a normal beat.

It was getting slightly ridiculous how often this kept happening. She really needed to get that dinner with Jack scheduled! Enough of worrying about obstacles and ballast. It was time for flight!

 

* * *

 

Phryne woke late and took her time getting dressed. When she made it downstairs, eager to discuss the story with Dot, she was sorry to learn her friend was not at home.

“I believe she and Hugh had a meeting at the church this morning,” Mr. Butler said.

“Oh, yes. I remember her mentioning something about that,” Phryne sighed. The review would have to wait.

Mr. Butler had just begun to serve her tea when the phone rang.

“Go on,” she said, “I’ll serve myself.”

He was back in a moment to inform her that Dot was calling.

“She requests your assistance at a crime scene. A possible murder,” he said, as though discussing the week’s shopping.

“At the church?” Phryne asked. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“No. A body has been found in the kitchen of an Italian restaurant just across the street.”

“Tell her I’m on my way,” she said, popping a bit of toast into her mouth and rushing out the door.

* * *

 

It was most definitely a murder, and while Jack seemed intent to keep her out of it, Phryne had no plans to remove herself from the case.

As she tried to coax more information from the dead woman’s family, a potentially lethal situation arose. The victim’s son-in-law planned to take matters into his own hands and rushed off with a loaded pistol to confront the people he thought responsible. The very people Jack had just left to see.

Phryne’s first thought was of Jack and the danger he was in. She had to get to him. She didn’t even wait for Dot and set off immediately in pursuit of the gunman.

She arrived just in time to issue a warning and the situation was diffused with only one, harmless shot being fired. Phryne looked over in relief, expecting to see her stalwart inspector but something was off. He was unusually angry. Even raising his voice as he argued back and forth with the gunman.

Jack never argued, he took control.

She’d sensed something odd from the moment she’d arrived at the scene of the murder. There was some prior relationship between Jack and everyone involved that left her feeling off balance and one step behind. It was even more disorienting now, as everyone shouted back and forth, addressing Jack as though they knew him outside of his capacity as a policeman. As if his presence among them was not uncommon.

And then she saw _her_ and the room tilted slightly.

Standing by Jack’s side was a stunning, chestnut haired woman that, like everyone else, seemed to know him. In fact she was alarmingly familiar with him.

The dark beauty was helping him on with his coat, brushing down his lapels, cooing calmingly to settle his temper. As he moved to leave she reached for him, grasping on to his hand, her eyes imploring him to take care. He turned to her, nodding warmly and squeezing her hand in a reassuring manner.

Phryne’s mouth fell open and she inhaled sharply. Her stomach lurched and dropped. Her knees went weak and she felt momentarily unsteady on her feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to address something I discovered after posting these first two chapters. During a conversation about how slang differs from country to country I learned that in the UK, Australia and New Zealand (and maybe other places as well) the word 'fanny' is slang for an intimate part of the female anatomy.
> 
> I was not aware of this and when I found out (thanks OllayJay) I found it both mortifying and hilarious that I'd chosen the name Fannie for the character of Phryne in my fic within a fic.
> 
> I thought about changing it but decided it was a little bit perfect. Who better than Phryne to reclaim and own a word meant to derisively reduce women to one single part of their body? 
> 
> So, I'm keeping it the way it is.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Paradoxically though it may seem, it is none the less true that life imitates art far more than art imitates life"._ —Oscar Wilde

On her way home from the station Phryne ran though the known facts of the new case.

Nonna Luisa, matron of the Carbone family, had been murdered in the kitchen of the family run restaurant.

Her death may, or may not, have something to do with a long running feud with another Italian restaurant in town. A place called Strano’s.

Two earlier crimes might also factor in. A year prior someone had tried to burn Carbone’s down, and a week after that, a man connected to Strano’s had been murdered.

It was just a lot of supposition thus far. Nothing solid.

Hanging over all of it was the shadow of the Camorra—a secret Italian society known for its ruthlessness. When the Camorra reared its head witnesses suddenly developed amnesia or disappeared all together.

That’s what had happened when Jack had investigated both of the earlier crimes. He’d suspected that the murdered man—Fabrizi, was his name—had been a member of the Camorra. Jack thought Fabrizi had been ordered to burn down Carbone’s restaurant and that his murder was the retaliation. His death occurred in broad daylight, with plenty of witnesses, all of whom later claimed to have seen nothing.

This Fabrizi also happened to have been the husband of the lovely Italian woman Phryne had seen fussing over Jack earlier.

 _Concetta_.

An ‘old friend’ Jack had called her. _The cheeky bastard_.

Phryne pushed through her front door, huffing slightly and muttering to herself. “At least she doesn’t have violet eyes!”

“Did you say something, Miss?”

“Oh! Dot! You startled me!”

“Sorry, Miss,” Dot said, as she descended the staircase. “I’ve just put those stockings in your room. I was able to save them after all.”

“You’re a marvel!”

“Any new developments in the case?”

“Nothing concrete as of yet. Is supper almost ready or do I have time to wash up?”

“There’s a nice stew on the stove. I can warm it anytime. Would like me to run you a bath first?

“That would be lovely, Dot. Thank you.”

Phryne shed her clothing and wrapped herself in her well-loved, black dressing gown, relishing the feel of the fine silk against her skin. In the bath, Dot was finishing her preparations, adding a few drops of Phryne’s favorite fragrant oil to the water.

The scent of lavender and sweet jasmine filled the air as Phryne settled into the deliciously hot bath. Immediately some of the tension in her body began to ebb. Her mind, however, continued to fret.

Jack wasn’t really behaving any differently toward her as regarded the case. He’d made it clear he was unhappy about her involvement, owing to the added danger of the Camorra, but he wasn’t shutting her out. Still, she didn’t feel completely included either.

It wasn’t normal to have all the concerned parties, victim and suspect alike, refer to him by his Christian name. Everyone involved was known to each other. They had history. She was on the outside, looking in.

Was this how he had felt during the case with Compton? She had already known that he struggled with her occasional dalliances but he’d been especially bothered by Lyle and she’d been annoyed by his ridiculous, and totally unfounded, bout of jealousy.

Now, there was a gnawing in the pit of her own stomach that made her reconsider the situation. What she was feeling wasn’t jealousy—never that—but whatever it was, it made her a little more sympathetic to Jack’s plight.

Maybe his insecurity had been about more than just the dalliance. Maybe her history with Lyle had been a factor. For the first time, here was a man from her past with whom she had a real connection. A relationship that—in Jack’s eyes, anyway—threatened what they had together and what they were working to try and build on.

It had affected their working relationship, too. He’d accused her of dancing to Compton’s tune and thought that she was keeping things from him at the other man’s request. She hadn’t been. In fact, almost immediately she’d let Lyle know that she wouldn’t do anything that would compromise Jack’s case.

She’d told Lyle that, but she hadn’t said it to Jack. She’d expected Jack to know— without her having to say—that he came first.

If he didn’t know that, what else didn’t he know? What else hadn’t she communicated clearly? And, were there things he was not saying to her? Assumptions she’d made that were incorrect?

Dot returned to the bath with freshly laundered towels and placed one on the stool within reach of the tub.

“Dot,” Phryne said, a thought suddenly occurring. “We never had a chance to discuss your story!”

“That’s all right, Miss. I think the murder investigation is more important! And, it’s not really my story. I didn’t write it.”

“But didn't you help?”

“Yes. I guess I did.”

“Tell me, who came up with the character of Calista? Was that you or Alice?”

“That was Alice. She wanted to have a romance in her story.”

“And it wasn’t enough to work with the characters she already had?”

“She said a love triangle would add some dramatic tension.”

“I suppose it does but I would think you could write a lovely romance without adding the angst of a rival. It was clear that Jake and Fannie were wild about each other.”

“Yes, but Alice said that a love story has to end in a wedding.”

“I can’t say that I agree with that. You can have a romantic ending without a wedding. What if Fannie were to have planned to sail before Jake marries? Then, just as she’s about to get on the ship, Jake shows up at the docks and tells her he’s broken it off with Calista. That he loves only her. That's romantic! They could go away together and everyone is happy!”

“Except Calista,” Dot said.

“True, but she’s _so beautiful_ , she won’t be alone long. And she hardly knew Jake anyway,” Phryne said, unable to keep the sarcasm from her tone.

“So you think Jake and Fannie should run away and elope?”

“I don’t know that they necessarily need to marry.”

“But what about Jake’s career?” Dot said.

“Hadn’t thought of that. Well, maybe they just go away for short time. Even Detective Inspectors deserve a holiday once in awhile!”

“But Jake’s a policeman. He couldn’t live in sin!”

“It’s not actually against the law, Dot,” Phryne said, rolling her eyes a bit.

“It wouldn’t be proper. Jake needs a wife and Fannie doesn’t want to be tied down,” Dot said as though that were the most obvious thing in the world. “They loved each other but they couldn’t find a way to be together and still have what they both wanted. That was the whole problem. That’s why there had to be another woman.”

“But, Fannie seemed to love him quite a lot.”

“She did. Enough to let him go and find happiness with someone else. I thought it was beautiful and tragically romantic.”

“Yes. So you’ve mentioned,” Phryne said, dryly.

“Didn’t you like the story?” Dot asked. She was beginning to look let down.

“I did like it, Dot! I liked it very much! Phryne said, causing Dot to smile proudly, “I was just surprised by the conclusion. I think readers might prefer a happy ending.”

“But it was a happy ending,” Dot insisted. “Jake ended up with a lovely wife and Fannie gets to keep having adventures.” She picked up the shampoo bottle. “Would you like me to help wash your hair?” Apparently that would be the last word on the subject.

“No. Thank you Dot. I can manage on my own.”

 _A happy ending?_ Phryne was nonplussed to discover that she and Dot could have such a different interpretation of the same story. How could Jake be happy with Calista when he had such a strong connection to Fannie? And adventuring was well and good, but what about all the things Fannie was leaving behind? Her friends. Her detective agency. Her...

“Shall I go warm the stew then, Miss?”

“What? Oh, you needn’t bother, Dot. I’m sure I can manage.”

“It’s no trouble. I’ve nothing pressing to do and Hugh’s tied up at the station with the inspector so our plans for the evening have been postponed.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Phryne said, but the news that Jack was occupied tonight was was welcome. It meant Phryne could have a look around the case without running up against him and his occasionally overprotective tendencies.

She decided she would return to Strano’s. The Carbone family seemed sure they were behind the death of Nona Luisa and there’d been no time to size up the suspects during the kerfuffle earlier today. An hour later, after a quick supper, she was ready to go.

“Is that a new dress?” Dot asked, as she passed through the kitchen to say goodnight.

“This? Oh, yes, I suppose it is.”

“It’s beautiful and you look lovely in it.”

“Thank you, Dot. It’s always nice to make a good first impression, don’t you think?”

“You’ll certainly do that tonight, Miss. Where are you going?”

“I’m not entirely sure yet. I think I’ll stop by one or the other of the two restaurants and see if I can learn more about this feud.”

* * *

 

Strano’s was quiet but the family was there and Concetta was welcoming, graciously inviting Phryne to dine. Once they were seated, she got right to the point.

"You were wanting something?" she asked, eyeing Phryne knowingly.

She’d then been very cautious in answering Phryne’s questions regarding the Camorra. She claimed to have known nothing about her husband’s business, saying that " _wives are not for talking to."_  She said that she had not chosen her husband. The marriage had been arranged. In the end she’d provided Phryne with no helpful information. At least not where the case was concerned.

On other matters she’d revealed more. It was Concetta who first raised the subject of their mutual acquaintance.

 _“Gianni.”_ She called him, smiling shyly. She made a point of letting Phryne know he was a frequent guest at the restaurant, saying he had been there ' _many, many nights"_.

Phryne couldn’t help but be impressed. Concetta was clearly of considerable intelligence and, for all her appearance of subservient grace, she had a backbone. This was not a woman that intended to go quietly.

Any further conversation along those lines was derailed by the arrival of Papa Antonio. That was for the best. After all, Phryne was there to learn something that might forward the investigation, not talk about Jack’s dining habits.

Her one lead came from Papa Antonio, who suspected Nonna Luisa of having stolen a Strano family recipe book many years earlier. Apparently that was what had started the feud.

It didn’t make sense that this alleged crime from decades ago would be a motive for a present day murder. Still, Phryne thought it worth looking into, and since her visit to Stano’s left her feeling restless, she decided there was no better time than the present.

The door to the Carbone kitchen proved no match for her lock picking skills but she barely had time to look around before being assaulted from behind by another intruder. She cursed her jumbled mind. How had she been so careless as to not realize she was being followed?

Luckily the disturbance drew Guido Carbone to the kitchen. Between Phryne’s quick use of a knife, and his arrival, they were able to run the assailant off.

Guido had no information regarding any stolen recipes, but he was helpful and kind. In her adrenaline fueled and unsettled state, Phryne found him rather virile. She thought perhaps a bit of indulgence in sensual pleasure was just the distraction she needed. When he made an advance, she didn't rebuff him.

“This must be what heaven tastes like,” he murmured, kissing her neck.

“Well, if it doesn’t, I’m not going. But then I might not be given the option,” she sighed.

“One might find a kind of heaven on earth,” he said. “Come upstairs with me and we will seek it.”

As he kissed her, she closed her eyes, trying, unsuccessfully, to give in to the sensation.

 _It’s this case_ , she reasoned. She didn’t really suspect Guido in the death of his mother-in-law but he hadn’t been completely ruled out. She pushed back softly on his shoulders, smiling with regret.

“It’s tempting, but I cannot. Nona Luisa’s killer is still at large and I never allow myself to be lustfully compromised during an investigation.”

* * *

 

Phryne slept fitfully. Her dreams were fragmented.

_She was with Guido. He took her by the hand and led her upstairs but when they reached the top the man that turned to smile at her was Jack. He pulled her to him, kissing her with an intensity that sent her reeling._

_Suddenly they were outside. On the sidewalk. Her heart had turned to lead and dropped like a rock into her stomach._

_“She’s lovely, Jack,” dream Phryne said._

_“Yes, she is. I think we will be very happy,” dream Jack replied, as a beautiful woman materialized at his side. She had chestnut hair and dark eyes and a gold ring on her finger._

_“So happy. My Gianni and I,” Concetta said, gazing up at him adoringly._

_“You are a fortunate woman, Mrs. Robinson,” Phryne said. “Jack is good man. A noble man.”_

_The scene shifted again. She and Jack were alone, in her home, at the base of her staircase._

_“Not always, Miss Fisher,” Jack said._

_He took her by the hand and led her up the stairs._


	4. Chapter 4

The next days were filled with confusion. It got to the point where Phryne didn’t know what might be real and what was a figment of her fevered imagination. Events kept conspiring to drive her slightly mad.

First there was the funeral of Nonna Luisa. She and Jack had arrived together but separated by mutual agreement, deciding it was the most efficient way to observe all of their suspects. Even so, it had been a shock to see the way Concetta moved aside gladly to make room for him. The way she looked to him for support. Support he willingly gave.

Then there was the night that Jack didn’t come to her. She’d been thinking he might stop by to discuss the case, as he so often did, but she’d waited in vain. The next morning he’d shown up at her door grumpy and hung over. Every word between them felt cloaked in double meaning and innuendo.

Finally, there was that moment in the restaurant. Papa Antonio announced that Concetta was promised in marriage to Roberto Salvatore. Salvatore was a violent man believed to be a loyal foot soldier to the Camorra. The tension in the air and the look that passed between Jack and Concetta froze Phryne’s blood. It didn’t take a detective to see that Salvatore was not Concetta’s choice. Jack’s feeling were less clear. Obviously he would not want such a man for his friend, but was there more to his distress than that?

Phryne couldn’t help but envision another world. One where she and Jack might still be partners in their investigations but nothing more. There’d be no more teasing and flirting. No more companionable nights in her parlour. No more hope of ever waking in his arms. He’d have a different home to go to. One where a loving wife waited. A wife who would greet him at the door with a kiss, a warm supper and even warmer bed.

What would she do if life truly was imitating art? Would it be like the story? Could she love him enough to let him go to seek his happiness elsewhere?

She already saw flaws in that thinking. For one thing, it wasn’t up to her to let him go. She didn’t own him. Any choice was his alone to make.

The timing of this couldn’t possibly be worse. They’d just been starting to figure things out. To find a way forward. She didn’t want anything to change. She didn’t want to lose him but it all felt very much out of her control.

In the end, all she could think to do was what she’d been doing since the day they met. Be his friend. Stand by his side and support him when he needed her, including along any other path he might choose to follow.

* * *

The further Phryne dug into the case, the more it seemed to center around a theme of love. Thwarted, unrequited and forbidden.

In a twist right out of Shakespeare's ** _Romeo and Juliet_** , it turned out that the murder had nothing to do with the Camorra or the previous crimes. A forbidden love and the feud between the families had been the cause.

Marianna Carbone confessed to having killed her grandmother. She’d done it to protect herself and the man she loved—Vincenzo Strano. Nonna Luisa had discovered that Marianna was having a clandestine love affair with the grandson of her former lover and now sworn enemy, Papa Antonio. She’d threatened to have Vincenzo killed.

“She’s done it before,” Marianna said, during her confession. “Nonna was the one who paid to have that man shot in the Italian workers’ club—Fabrizi.”

Marianna didn’t know who the hired gunman was but there was a man that came to the restaurant every week. A man Nonna Luisa was apparently paying in installments.

“Can you describe this man?”

“He has a scar.”

Roberto Salvatore had a scar. Just like the one Marianna described.

* * *

Phryne followed Jack back into his office from the interview room. He was agitated. He tossed an old recipe book onto this desk. Marianna Carbone had discovered it under the floorboards in her grandmother’s kitchen. It was a Strano recipe book. The one Papa Antonio said Nonna Luisa had stolen years before.

“This entire feud. All this pain. Over a recipe book,” Phryne said.

“Roberto Salvatore has been playing both sides,” Jack said, grimly. His quiet anger was unsettling.

“It certainly looks that way but we don’t really have any proof. Not enough to arrest him. Not yet, anyway,” Phryne said.

“No,” Jack said. His jaw clenched. “Just like a year ago. He was my prime suspect then, too.”

“You can’t blame yourself for that, Jack! They closed ranks. No one would talk.”

“Do you think it will be any different now? When does this end? How many lives will be ruined before it does?”

“You’re thinking of Concetta.”

“I’m thinking of everyone. The man is a murderer. He’s dangerous.”

“Yes, he is. That’s why we have to keep digging. Until we find the proof we need to put him away.”

“We won’t find any more proof, Phryne! They’re too careful and anyone that could talk won’t! I need to get him off the streets now.”

“And what then? Do you think he’ll confess? You’ll just end up having to let him go. All you’ll accomplish is to make yourself more of a target than you already are!”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“But I do. Please, Jack. Don’t do anything stupid. We’ll find the proof.”

He met her eye and gave a small nod of his head before sitting down heavily in his chair.

“I need to write up the report on Marianna’s confession. You might as well go home. There’s nothing more to be done here.”

“All right,” she said, dubiously. He’d given in far too easily. “We’ll talk later?”

He didn’t answer. His head was already bent over his paperwork.

Phryne got as far as the front door before something made her stop and turn back. When she reached his office again it was empty. She checked the rack for his coat and hat. They were gone as well.

She hurried to the back door of the station just in time to see him pull away in his police vehicle.

“Dammit Jack!”

She ran back to his office, snatched up the recipe book and flew through the station out the front door.

He must have driven well above to the limit because his car was already at the curb when she reached Strano’s. She approached slowly and stood just inside the door where she wouldn’t be seen. She pulled her pistol from her handbag, clenching it firmly in her fist.

“You’re under arrest,” Jack said.

“And you come all by yourself?” Roberto Salvatore sneered. “I have a friend with me you should know about. Do you have a friend, Inspector?”

“He has at least one,” Phryne said, stepping out from hiding and taking her place at his side.

* * *

 

Jack took both Roberto Salvatore and Papa Antonio into custody. Whether the arrests would stick remained to be seen. One of them would have to turn on the other and neither man could do that without incriminating himself in the process.

What was more likely to happen was that both men would walk and soon after, Roberto Salvatore would turn up dead. Probably killed in the plain light of day and no one would confess to having seen a thing.

Even if they managed to convict both men it was unlikely to break the Camorra’s hold. Someone else would step up to fill any void.

It was enough to leave Phryne feeling morose. She sat in her parlour unable to shake off the melancholy.

She’d left Jack at the station and he’d given no indication as to whether he planned to stop by tonight. It hardly mattered. There wasn’t much to celebrate but she longed for something to distract her from her sullen mood.

No. That wasn’t true.

What she longed for was Jack and he felt very far out of reach. It was a strange sensation for her. Almost a physical ache. She’d felt it only rarely in her life.

Now, just as then, there was nothing she could do that would truly alleviate it. She might find something to divert it temporarily, and eventually it would lessen into something she could live with, but it would never fully leave her.

It made her wonder what it was she’d been waiting for. Why she’d left so much up to fate. She knew he cared for her. He’d said as much. And it was clear to anyone with eyes that she wanted him and yet she’d never really made an attempt to seduce him. Not in a manner that would succeed.

Jack was a serious man but even serious men had their limits and she could have pushed them if she’d wanted to. She hadn’t wanted to.

She hadn’t wanted to because what she wanted with him was so much more than a brief seduction. It had taken her far too long to realize and now she worried it was too late. Getting another chance at this was looking less and less likely.

She glanced at the clock. It was late and still he hadn’t come. She could only imagine where he’d gone instead.

> _“He must like the food.”_
> 
> Those were her words to Concetta on the night she’d gone to evaluate her rival.
> 
> _“He must,”_ Concetta had replied, smiling coyly.

They’d both known they weren’t talking about fine Italian cuisine.

Phryne sighed, staring into the fire as _La Donna E Mobile_ played on the gramophone. The entire scene felt slightly overwrought and melodramatic. She was thoroughly disgusted with herself. Still, she made no effort to improve her mood, preferring to sink even further into her gloom.

The door to the parlour swung open, interrupting her little pity party.

“The inspector to see you, Miss Fisher,” Mr. Butler announced.

Her heart made a cautious flip inside her chest and in the next moment Jack was there, standing not ten feet from her, a small, hopeful—or was it confidant?— smile on his face.

“Not eating Italian tonight, Jack?” She asked.

“Strano’s is closed,” he said. He held a bottle of wine in front of him as though it were some sort of propitiatory offering.

“Looks like you’ll have to make do with me,” she said.

“Looks like we’ll have to make do with each other.”

She blinked away the tears that were threatening to spill and took a deep breath to settle her nerves.

“That’s a nice bottle of wine, Jack,” she said, as conversationally as she could manage. “Shall I ask Mr. Butler to open it?”

“I think I could manage. If you’ll allow me.” He nodded toward her bar cart, awaiting permission.

“La mia casa è la tua casa,” she said with a wave of her hand. She wasn’t sure she was saying it perfectly but she thought it close enough to be understood.

He gave her a wry smile and set to opening the bottle.

“Tell me, where did you learn to speak Italian?” He asked.

“Oh, here and there,” She replied, vaguely. She didn’t think now was the time to mention the opera singer. “I’m surprised you haven’t picked up more, _Gianni_.”

“Be careful, Miss Fisher,” he said, quirking his eyebrow at her as he handed her a glass. “Someone might get the idea you’re jealous.”

“Who says I’m not? She’s a lovely woman.”

He looked down and took a sip from his glass, either thrown by her admission or determined not to continue this particular conversation.

“Concetta must be very relieved to be rid of Roberto Salvatore,” Phryne persisted. “Was the wine her way of saying thank you?”

He leveled his eyes at her, locking her in their grip. “I think it would be more accurately called a parting gift.”

“I see,” she said, unable to hide her smile.

She went to change the record playing on the gramophone. It was time for something livelier and just a bit romantic. She chose a mellow jazz recording that he’d seemed to enjoy when she’d played it before.

She walked slowly across the room, allowing him a long look at her retreating form—she was well aware of the way this particular pair of trousers flattered her. She took a seat on the chaise, patting the cushion beside her in invitation and he sat, close enough to press his shoulder to hers.

They remained in silence for a minute. It was a loaded silence. Unlike the companionable kind they usually shared.

“I thought you might not come tonight,” she said, finally, “that perhaps you’d received a more exciting invitation.”

“I don’t know about a more exciting one, but I’m sure I don’t recall you issuing any invitation at all, Miss Fisher,” he teased.

“It’s a standing one, Jack. As you well know. And I know, even if you’re going try pretend otherwise, that there is at least one other woman that would very much welcome your company tonight.”

“Phryne, that—situation—is not what you think.”

Phryne had a decision to make. She could take him at his word and let the moment pass or she could make her heart more vulnerable than she ever had before. She decided to risk it. He’d as much as said he was through with Concetta but she needed to know how close she’d come to losing him.

“What I think, Jack, is that she is a beautiful woman who has a great deal to offer a man.”

“The whole world could be on offer to a man,” he replied. “What would it matter if it isn’t the world he wants?”

She felt her heart rate increase. “Are you sure of that?”

“More than ever.”

“You’re a fool, Inspector,” she said, her eyes brimming with tears once again.

“Probably, Miss Fisher,” he conceded, “I hear that’s common for a man in my circumstance.”

“What circumstance is that?”

His head tilted roguishly and his lips curved into the little half smile that always made her breath catch.

“I think you know,” he said.

“I do,” she admitted.

“And how do you feel about that?”

She took the glass from his hand and set it, along with her own, on the side table. This was one of those moments, she decided, when action would speak louder than words.

She took his face in her hands and drew him close. She heard his sharp intake of breath, watched his features soften and his eyes flutter closed in the split second before she touched her lips to his.

Her own eyes fell shut as her body melted with relief to finally touch him. To kiss him like this. Her heart pounded in her chest. Knocking against her ribs as if trying to break out and get to him. She let it go. She’d been holding it back long enough.

When they pulled apart his smile was happy and a little disbelieving. He rested his forehead against hers, his hands cradling her head gently, his thumb stroking along her cheek.

“In case that didn’t make things entirely clear,” Phryne said, “I love you too, Jack Robinson.”


End file.
